


It is Human to Want (What isn't Yours to Want)

by Fweeble



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Davesprite's existence pain, M/M, future fic in which the B1 and B2 kids have finally met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fweeble/pseuds/Fweeble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, everything boils down to what is yours and what isn't. </p><p>In the end, what you want isn't what is yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is Human to Want (What isn't Yours to Want)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TronKon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TronKon/gifts).



> For Tron, because we talked about Davesprite before bed.

Dirk is not Bro.

Bro had died because you weren’t good enough, fast enough, strong enough, sharp enough. The boy with long, coltish limbs he had yet to fully grow into is not Bro. Bro was broad, tall and strong, a paragon of all things that you aspired to be. But there are hints of the man Dirk will be and already there is budding muscle in places you don’t have, probably will never have. He’s not your brother, he never will be, but you can see glimpses of him in Dirk, short and fleeting.

Dirk isn’t dead. Dirk’s heart still beats beneath his gaudy, princely maroon outfit. Dirk doesn’t have a katana buried into cooling flesh.

Dirk is alive.

John is alive, too.

Just not your John –your John is somewhere else, roaming the outer rings of Skaia with eyes as milky white as the cream Bro never put in his coffee.

John isn’t your John, Dirk isn’t your Bro –you aren’t even Dave anymore, either.

Dave, who isn’t you but is you, is dating a troll girl with red sunglasses as sharp as her smile. You wonder if she had worn that smile when your John had died, when he had foolishly poked a slumbering giant like a brain addled idiot with a stick. You wonder how you –but not you, because you’re not Dave, not anymore –could ever forget that she had all but killed John –but not John, not this John, he’s not dead, but your John is; dead, like your dead timeline.

This John, like this timeline, isn’t dead. He smiles at you, punches your shoulder and snorts at his own lame jokes. He creates nests of fluff and plush; he nestles in it with you and Jade, the three of you huddled close and whispering, as if the nonsense you mutter and giggle is important, worth listening in on. This John is warm beneath your touch, warm and real. 

But this John isn’t your John, he’s not even Dave’s John.

Somehow, though, he is Dirk’s John.

You think you had realized this the moment they met and something in Dirk’s face had shifted, cleared like a cloudless starry sky. 

Behind his shades, Dirk’s eyes follow John. You know; your eyes follow John too. 

Dirk, who is not your Bro, and John, who is not yours, are in love, or will be. You can see it in the way John leans into Dirk when they talk, in the way Dirk quirks his brow in amusement, too coy to smile. 

They have wars, endless battles of one-upmanship you had always thought you would share with John when you finally met. But this was before; before Sburb, before everything. Before, when you were still Dave and not Davesprite. 

And when the day finally rolls around and John walks up to you wearing Dirk’s shades, his hand in Dirk’s, smile four sizes too large for his face, you will only smile and congratulate them. 

This John isn’t yours.


End file.
